


Half Pain

by VirtualStar



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03e02 The Sign of Three, Fairy Tale Elements, Friendship, M/M, Magical Realism, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-07 22:18:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VirtualStar/pseuds/VirtualStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Unequalled Spells Tome V" read the engraving. There was magic for anything, from ways to make your hair grow faster to potions to tame dragons. </p>
<p>Among the spells there was one that caught Sherlock's attention; "Spell LXI: Spell for love to stop hurting". It was oddly specific and the detective wished for a moment that the book wasn't only a compendium of idiotic writings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I put a spell (on me)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit inspired by some manga (japanese comics) I enjoy, but it is not a crossover in any way. Since I don't want to spoil the first chapter, you can read more about the references at the end notes.
> 
> Enjoy!

Sherlock was a man of science. So things such as spells, magic or the supernatural world ranked for him in the same level fiction did; a total tomfoolery not worth the paper it was printed it.

The book he had in his hands looked old, ancient even with pages made of parchment and leather covers embossed with golden letters. He had acquired the book the period he was dismantling Moriarty's network; it has been the payment for solving a small case for the mysterious woman who called herself a witch and had something that resembled an antiques dealer.

"Unequalled Spells Tome V" read the engraving. There was magic for anything, from ways to make your hair grow faster to potions to tame dragons. Most of the spells looked quite silly, kind of the XIIIth century version of a magazine: how look hotter, how to lose weight, how to become better at your job and the like.

Among the spells there was one that caught Sherlock's attention; "Spell LXI: Spell for love to stop hurting". It was oddly specific and the detective wished for a moment that the book wasn't only a compendium of idiotic writings.

As much as he would like to lie to himself, and as much as he did indeed lie to himself to that point; he lost John. While Mary seemed to like Sherlock and goaded John to keep going on cases, you didn't have to be a genius to realise that now that John's was going to be a father it was hopeless.

Of course he knew children were on John's mind, but he hoped that at least when it happened enough time for his heart (looked like he actually had one, much to his chagrin) to stop hurting and at least, get used to not see him in an almost daily basis.  
He was always capable of making John break up with his girlfriends, not that he had to do much, the good doctor himself was apt enough at getting dumped; but the probability of losing John if he tried it so soon after coming back was too high to even try.

He spent the first night after the wedding at Lestrade's. He actually didn't intend to end there, but when he arrived at 221B the silence and the solitude was too much. The DI didn't said much upon finding Sherlock on his sofa, he just took some beers from the refrigerator and they drunk until the alcohol made Sherlock maudlin. He didn't remember what he told Lestrade, but in the morning he just looked sadly at Sherlock and offered his sofa for as long as he needed. Not wanting pity or having other people around he just came back home. 

It had been already two days after that but he barely moved from the sofa. There were some experiments to be done, and a couple of cold cases supplied by Lestrade but neither option seemed attractive right then. He decided to look for his secret stash of cigarettes, that was kept inside a hollow book but he couldn't find them. And this was how he found the spell book that was now in his hands.

Of course, it was impossible for the spell to do anything. But maybe he could do it as a statement, as a ritual to mark the day he decided to put an end to his stupid heartbreak. At least he would be distracted while he looked for the ingredients and readied the ritual.

It took him a bit longer than expected to find everything. Some of the herbs required for the spell were a bit exotic and hard to find in this season of the year, but after a week he had it all.

In this time, he had received a mail from John with a couple of photos and some lines explaining how nicely was the honeymoon going. Again he felt a mixture of happiness of sadness that made his chest hurt. 

He decided to start preparing the spell to distract his mind. According to the instructions, he was to made a concoction that had to boil for 3 hours. He had to pour the resulting infusion into a glass made of rock crystal and drop inside an item belonging to the person you wanted to forget. After that, you had to drink 3 sips at night and let the rest of the liquid fall.

At most, some of the herbs would have some kind of relaxing, or maybe stimulating, effects although the ingredients looked harmless enough.

Later, at night, he decided to carry on when the spell. He poured the liquid that had been boiling for 3 hours into the glass and he dropped inside John's dog tags. Probably he didn't know yet that his military dog tags were in Sherlock's possession. The detective took them before the last confrontation against Moriarty. It was stupid and irrational, but they felt like a good luck charm even if in the end, he couldn't think that he had that much luck. After coming back he didn't give them back to John, and the doctor wasn't missing them.

He felt silly carrying the ritual but there wasn't anybody to see him being ridiculous. At least, he promised himself, he would try to forget John if only to not repeat this behaviour.

After drinking the potion he didn't feel anything. It tasted like herbs with a metallic touch, probably the tags. After the 3 sips he let the rest of the drink pour into the ground. Mrs. Hudson wasn't going to like if a stain appeared.

When he was going to go back to the sofa his body began to burn. It didn't actually hurt but the heat increased and breathing was becoming difficult. The last thing he saw before blacking out, was a red light that appeared to come out of his chest that suddenly dispersed like shooting stars. And then, nothing.


	2. The knight of the day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, with episode 3 this becomes some kind of AU. Just read it as if the last episode of the series didn't happen.

Lestrade was worried. He usually was, when Sherlock was concerned. He had some period of peace, when he knew that John was taking, more or less, care of the dark haired nightmare but the recent developments left him a bit wary.  
He has been surprised to see Sherlock treating Mary fairly well, and even when the engagement was announced, he seemed to take it quite well, although his smile was a bit forced sometimes and he was more withdrawn when John wasn't near.

After the wedding, and Mary's pregnancy, he tried to be supportive of Sherlock while not being well.... a drag, so to say. The only help he was providing was offering some cold cases to the detective and making sure he ate once in a while by bringing some take-away to 221B with the excuse of reviewing the cases.

This was one of those times. Greg was reaching Baker Street with the most strange killings he found in the archives of the yard in one hand and a bag with Indian take-away in the other.

He rang the bell at 221. He rang again. After the third time Mrs. Hudson opened the door. 

"He is upstairs, dear. He has been quiet for a while" said with a sad smile.

Lestrade didn't bother knocking on the door and just came into the living room. It was dark and there was a strange smell in the air. Maybe not so strange, considering that Sherlock did experiments more often than not. And there seemed to be something a clutter on the floor. He left the bag in a nearby table and when he turned the lights on, Lestrade could see that it wasn't clutter but Sherlock on the floor.

He ran towards him; Sherlock seemed to have fainted. He was breathing normally and there weren't any external wounds. Nervously, Lestrade lifted Sherlock sleeves to check his arms, but he let a heavy exhalation when he didn't see any needle marks. He shacked Sherlock and when Lestrade was already reaching for his phone to call an ambulance, Sherlock started to groan.

"Sherlock! Are you alright? What happened??" asked Greg frantic.

"Lestrade" said Sherlock blinking "I am fine"

"What happened?"

"I don't know" answered Sherlock in a rather monotone voice.

"There is a broken glass" said Greg warily "Did you take something... dangerous?"

Greg was ready for an answer full of sarcasm or a direct attack, so he was surprised with Sherlock response.

"No" answered Sherlock blinking. Silence then.

Greg was feeling unnerved. Sherlock didn't really look drugged, there weren't physical evidences of it. He didn't look drunk either but he was behaving strangely. Calling an ambulance was probably out, but seeing the circumstances the policeman though it wouldn't go amiss to call Sherlock's brother.

Sherlock will get angry when he goes back to normal, but Greg prefers to incur in his wrath than leaving him like that and finding something worse in the morning.

As usual with Mycroft his tone was polite and calm but there was a too long pause after Greg stated that Sherlock was unwell. It wasn't long after the call that Mycroft came into the flat without knocking.

"Good afternoon, Detective Inspector." and added after a sigh "and good afternoon to you brother".

"Good afternoon Mycroft" said Sherlock back in his perfectly monotone voice that made Greg's skin crawl. And even Mycroft seemed taken aback with the lack of insults and weight teasing.

Mycroft looked around searching for clues. There was a broken glass in the floor where some kind of herb smelling liquid was pooling. An antique looking book was on the floor too, some steps away from where Sherlock sat on the floor as well. 

"Brother mine, you are sleeping at my house today"

"Ok"

"Wait, wait, but what's the matter with him?" asked Greg who was increasingly worried at Sherlock acceptance of Mycroft orders.

Mycroft picked the book from the floor and after eyeing the page that was opened by, he answered "If this is to be believed, Sherlock lost his heart".

"What? You mean like magic? That's impossible!" exclaimed Greg.

"Is it, dear detective inspector?" asked Mycroft mysteriously "It is not a matter of existence; the recipe of the concoction drank by Sherlock is written here. I will have it analysed to determine if any of the herbs detailed here could have provoked this... effect. It will be also beneficial if he is controlled until it passes".

 

"I can keep him company here" started Greg.

"Thank you Detective Inspector, but it will be preferred if I watch him at my residence. If something goes amiss during the night I have the resources to act promptly."

Greg wasn't very convinced since he knew about the tense relationship between Mycroft and Sherlock but Sherlock wasn't complaining.

"Fine. But give me a call if he gets worse." 

"You will be called if you are needed." announced Mycroft helping Sherlock to his feet. "Close the door when you leave, thank you".

And he left, while holding Sherlock who walked a bit wobbly but appeared fine otherwise. Still, his silence and lack of fussing with the arrival of Mycroft.

It wasn't as if he was drugged either; Greg has seen several times Sherlock in drugs and he was usually hyperactive and wild, not this kind of subdued man he found. Whatever he must have drink was mild, since apart from the apathy, has mostly fine.

Mycroft took the book from the floor and continued walking toward the door and down the stairs, on his way to a black car parked on the street.

With his brother taking care of him, he should have leave the matter alone but he was curious. For starters it was unusual to find a magic book. If someone was a man of science, that was Sherlock. There was also the issue with the lost heart thing. All in all, very unbelievable, but as Sherlock usually said, once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. Following that train of though, the evidence pointed towards the fact that Sherlock Holmes attempted to do a spell to lose his heart. He didn't have to be a detective to realise the reason to try it.

Greg was not very sympathetic with anybody matter of the heart. More often than not heartbreak happened, and you were fucked when your relationship broke but it was something that more or less was a common occurrence. You felt like shit for some time and then things got better. However, he was worried for Sherlock.

He knew that Sherlock wasn't the kind of person to fall in love. He barely had any interest on most of the people he met on a daily basis and he has been hurt by John's marriage. Worse than he though, if tonight display was any sign.

An idea came to Greg. He looked for a clean recipient in the kitchen, finding Sherlock stock of glass vials used for experiments. He took one of them and a pair of tongs that rested on the table to pick some of the broken glass that remained on the floor. He could have it analysed and it would give him some answers if any of the remains on the glass was a known narcotic.

On his way to Scotland Yard he had an internal debate with himself regarding the need of calling John to explain him the events of the night, but in the end he decided against it. If he got involved at this point it was possible that it would hurt Sherlock seeing how he was desperate enough to try magic. Also, it wouldn't be probably nothing more that a scare and he would be fine the next morning after he slept whatever he took.


	3. Moment of truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg is indeed a good friend. And he is not scared of Mycroft.

It has been already four days since the mess where he found Sherlock on the floor of Baker Street and he still didn't know anything about the man. He expected being pestered by texts or even calls demanding a case. Greg tried first texting and then calling Sherlock, when his texts were unanswered, but his phone was turned off. Unusual.

He came to Baker Street but Mrs. Hudson informed him that Sherlock didn't come back after that day. In the end, Greg concern lead to him deciding to contact Mycroft. If Sherlock was well he would have been back to the flat and the DI was worrying that maybe whatever Sherlock took was more poisonous than they though.

Greg dialled Mycroft's number.

"Good Morning, Detective Inspector" said Mycroft's voice on the phone.

"Hello. I have been trying to contact Sherlock, but his phone is off and he isn't back at Baker Street. Is he alright?" asked Greg.

"Sherlock's health is perfectly well" answered Mycroft.

"And why is his phone turned off?" enquired Greg a bit suspicious.

"That will be all, Detective Inspector" said Mycroft with a tension in his voice that wasn't there before "Have a nice day". And the phone call was ended.

Greg tried calling again later, both Sherlock's phone and Mycroft's; but the detective phone was off and his brothers' sent his call directly to voice mail. And the next day, the same. He didn't have any other resources, when he needed to contact Mycroft usually he found Greg or he just called the phone number where he was sent to the voice mail.

Maybe he could contact John. He actually didn't want to involve him in whatever was going now; he was Sherlock's friend but Greg wasn't sure if Sherlock wanted to meet him when he was not at his best. And while not 100% sure, he though that the old pair haven't been meeting much because even if Sherlock didn't avoid the topic John in a conversation, he didn't talk about him as much as he used to.

In the end, after being ignored for another day, Greg decided to take the direct approach and visit Mycroft in the fancy club where he as a regular and where they had met sometimes before. It wasn't his favourite place, all imposing with the luxury furniture and the powerful dudes in total quietness, but he was restless not knowing about Sherlock. 

Greg didn't doubt that Mycroft had Sherlock's best interests in mind, but after seeing them together and the bits and pieces he heard from John it wasn't hard to realise that Mycroft didn't always know how to relate to Sherlock.

 

When Greg arrived at Diogenes it seemed like he was expected, since a man in a black suit just came up to him and said to follow him. After walking some dark corridors with the same luxurious decor as the halls he already knew, the man left him in front of a wood door and left quietly.

Greg knocked and came in. Mycroft was alone in the office looking room, sitting in front of a big desk.

"Detective Inspector, at least one must praise your perseverance. But your worry is for naught; Sherlock is perfectly fine". said Mycroft calmly.

"I am worried. I have not heard from Sherlock since that day, his phone is off and he is not back at Baker Street. Is expected that I am suspicious. But even if he is using again, I'm not going to cast him away; if that is your fear."

"My brother is not currently using drugs, you don't need to worry" cut Mycroft.

"Listen... I want to meet him, and maybe talk to him. I sent to a lab a sample of whatever he took and there wasn't anything that could be labelled as toxic or that was considered a drug".

"I know" answered Mycroft sounding tense.

"Is he in one of your missions?" Greg continued when he saw surprise on Mycroft's face "Yeah, he said something about that sometimes. Mostly how boring they were".

"Detective Inspector, you know I could have you forcefully removed from here?" asked Mycroft coolly.

"Don't doubt it. But that is not going to make me less suspicious you know?" Greg was getting tired of the critical responses from Mycroft "Look, I am just worried" .

"I'm taking care of him. You do not need to worry, Gregory" said Mycroft.

"I think he could do with a friend"

Mycroft looked quizzically at Greg "Are you insinuating something?".

"Shit! No, I... Listen, wouldn't be easier to stop being so stubborn and let me see him?" asked Greg losing his patience already. These games of cat and mouse weren't his style.

"Very well. Follow me" said Mycroft standing up and walking towards one of the doors. Greg followed him outside and towards a black car with tinted windows. The driver came out of the car and opened the door for the two men to enter.

"Detective Inspector, you will stop being a nuisance after meeting Sherlock"

"Just stop with the Detective Inspector thing; my name is Greg" and after a beat "And you know that you can't actually forbid me from seeing Sherlock, do you?"

"I can" 

"Well, probably you can; but that is not a good way to have Sherlock trust you, you know?"

Mycroft didn't say anything after that and just become absorbed in his smart-phone. After 20 minutes the car entered in the garage of a luxurious flat complex. The driver parked the car and came out to open the door. Mycroft walked towards the elevator and Greg followed.

The lift lead directly to the penthouse. Greg was amazed, the flat was huge and with a beautiful decoration in wood and dark shades. 

Mycroft turned a switch on and with the lights Greg could see. Sherlock was sitting in one of the sofas, with a dressing gown and a pyjama looking at a point in the horizon.

"Sherlock! I was worried" said Greg running towards him.

"Why?"

"What do you mean why? You have been missing for several days! Your phone is off!"

"Oh!"

"Mycroft! What is wrong with him? Did you give him something!?"

Mycroft sighted "Gregory, sit down and I will explain".

"It better be a good story, because right now, I'm not convinced that you don't have something to do with his state" said Greg angrily.

"Sherlock did... an spell. And it worked" 

"You are joking? A spell? You mean, magic? Magic isn't real"

"It's... uncommon nowadays, but is real. Of course not everybody has the possibility to make it happen and the government has most of the capable individual controlled or working for us."

Greg was shocked.

"Let's say that for a moment I believe you. Are you mean to say that after all this time, you didn't know that Sherlock was... capable?"

"There are two ways to make an spell work. The first is having the power. There is people who is born with it; not many mind you, because after the witch hunts in the middle age the genes didn't spread. The second..." Mycroft swallowed "The second is being desperate enough or wanting it strongly enough to make it happen".

"And... what was Sherlock's spell? What did he want so much?"

"In the book it is called a spell to stop being hurt by love"

"So, something went wrong?"

"No. Everything was as expected. You see, a spell is never as it seems, and in this case the way to stop being hurt was to lose his heart".

"If he lost his heart he would be dead"

"Not literally. He lost his feelings. Right now Sherlock doesn't feel anything neither good or bad. He just... exists".

Greg was speechless. It sounded like a bunch of bollocks, but he could deny that not even drugged and high Sherlock behaved s strangely. And Mycroft wasn't the kind of man to joke about magic and spells.

"So... hypothetically speaking. If he lost his heart, what can we do now?".

"Nothing" was Mycroft's answer.

**Author's Note:**

> The two inspirations for this are xxxHolic (by Clamp) and the Princess Tutu (horrible title, great series) anime.
> 
> If you don't know about them, that's not a problem since the references are quite explained and detailed in the fic. In short, xxxHolic is about a witch that owns a shop where she concedes wishes. But you must pay a just price, and the greater the wish, the bigger the price; it can be anything from an object left by a loved one to your eyesight.
> 
> Princess Tutu is (among other things) a series about a prince who lost his heart and the heroine who manages to, literally, rebuild it.
> 
> Also, english is not my first (or second) language, so if you find some awful mistake (even if I used a spellchecker) I would be glad to be noticed.


End file.
